Her Beautiful Eyes
by ametomoe
Summary: His lover won't stop having nightmares. Things change when she tells him why. Their family story. Work in progress, nowhere near done. PLEASE R&R!
1. Prologue

Hello peoples – this is my story

Hello peoples – this is my story. I'll leave most of my author's note for the end.

_Every night we would lie close together on that old creaky mattress before falling victim to sleep. Sometimes I would play with the stray hairs that bordered her pale face, sometimes run my fingers from her bold shoulder to her much less intimidating thigh, but mostly I would stare at those eyes, those beautiful eyes, until her rhythmic breathing captured my own. She knew she was torturing me when she laid on her side with her face towards my chest, her thin, long, wavy brown hair outlining her slight hourglass shape better, if possible, than the worn light blue camisole she often wore to bed. Her long, some - what tan legs intertwining my own looked even more seductive in the dim light of our repaired alarm clock than in the black knee – high stilettos she liked to wear during the day. Those, accompanied by her regular navy trench coat and loose white blouse, made her appear very bold, but I knew better than to think her strong. I knew she still had many weaknesses locked inside her head; they seemed to enjoy forcing their way into her dreams, making her stir and kick under the thin sheet we slumbered with in the summer. When it would finally slip to the floor (much to the delight of our shaggy pet Roger, who liked to snuggle in the wrinkled fabric) I would wake from the cold and turn to shake her from the deep trance by calling her name._

_The fear that penetrated her dreams caused us both trouble going back to sleep, and so I would hold her very tight until the salty liquid on her face disappeared and her hand loosened it's death-grip on my shirt. We would then begin the staring game, the game that would fascinate us many a night without failing, at least until the dawn gave us permission to stop. But in those hours before sunrise that never seemed to last long enough, I was happy to stare at her eyes, her beautiful eyes, as she stared back at mine._

_Sometimes the nightmares would subside for a week, maybe two, before starting up again. Those nights in-between I was grateful for, when I could sleep without being interrupted and know that her mind was safe. Unfortunately, the days that continually came after the nights would put me in a sad, blank state; I was left to brainstorm the reason of her constant harassment._

_She left me wondering until one night, when I woke her from her repetitive dream with a kiss, the same concerned kiss that we often shared and came to understand all too well. It was then that her eyes, her beautiful eyes, flashed with an emotion, maybe pain that I rarely saw. This time I thought that look was accompanied by something else, an understanding of sorts. My suspicions were confirmed when she spoke._

_She told me a story that night as I held her in my arms. The story was unusual, I thought, and painful, but with a strange, under-spoken ghost of hurt that could only be put to rest by someone who understood it's unfortunate predicament. I often sought her gaze through her long, bluntly cut bangs, not sure of how spilling these thoughts was affecting her, but when at last her eyes met mine, they looked strange. The face of the one I loved was not only shadowed by her ruffled hair, but also with a nostalgic glaze that was not to be wiped away by blinking. After I realized that she was too far back in her sorrowful past to hear the words I was planning on saying, I tilted the tip of my nose tenderly to the top of her head and closed my eyes, patiently waiting to hear what she had decided to tell me._

_She kept talking, sometimes pausing and then continuing with a different voice. I could not decide what her current feelings were, if one was even there. When she swallowed before going on her eyes were just as blank and expressionless as before, though slightly narrower. Once she stopped and looked down, ashamed, I thought, about the condition she had been in before meeting me. She was obviously aware of the fact that leaving had helped her, but until this night I had wondered if it was what she had really wanted, if I would ever find out. The limp figure beneath my loose grasp was beautiful, but not well. Though she wasn't delicate, I knew she was breakable, and I suppressed a sigh as she continued her story, never once looking up at me. Every now and then her eyebrows would frown slightly to emphasize confusion or frustration at points before returning to the serenity her face held throughout the tale. When she paused to gather her thoughts and let me take in her words I realized that she was still in that dark hole she had just described, part of her still stuck in a depression with that boy and whatever she still felt towards him. I knew then why she often cried - cried, but never sobbed. Her eyes leaked tears – what her mind would not recognize the need for. It made me upset and frustrated, for it would always sidetrack me during my frequent brainstorms of why this girl's short life was so complicated, and how her skin, so tender and pale against her bohemian clothing, could possibly have held her together during the time when she was alive._

_Tears then started flowing unconsciously across her face without warning and I immediately felt more sympathetic. I clung to her tighter than before, scared to let her slip too far back in the past. I never thought to brush away the drops of water on that pretty face; she usually wouldn't have let me touch her in this state. I felt grateful that she was allowing me to do so now, but at the same time I was fretful, wondering if explaining this chapter of her life was slowly ripping up another part of her obviously broken heart. I blinked my eyes as a tear ran down my own cheek; I knew I could not stop her by telling her to._

_I didn't know whether or not she would go on with the story; she hadn't said anything for a few minutes. I released her with one hand to tilt her chin towards mine and look into her eyes, her beautiful eyes. _

_They made a chill run up my spine._

_Naturally a light, watery gray color, shaky streaks of indigo helped compliment a dark plum, almost black iris. Now wide and looking very surprised, not at the fact that I was crying too but because she had just remembered my presence, they were much more astonishing than before, being magnified with tears that had yet to fall. I had woken apart of her, as her eyes never failed to do to me whenever I found them. Suppressing the urge to lose myself inside her, I wrenched my thoughts back to the present and saw that she was staring at me, both our minds and bodies locked tight with the others'._

_We had never been afraid to look away, nor were we then. We both knew that we were a permanent part of this earth, together or apart, happy or sad, innocent or guilty. But now my hard, demanding gaze was penetrating hers for another reason; I was determined to finish this never-ending maze by finding out what happened next, even if she wasn't going to tell me. Her small mouth opened and closed soundlessly a few times before it stopped to rest her front teeth on her bottom lip. When she spoke I had to suppress a surprised jolt – her voice was deep and solemn, unlike earlier._

_She looked down once again as she came to a missing element in the story, the part that had obviously torn her into the pieces I had found her in, the ones that all seemed to be from different puzzles and that wouldn't fit together no matter how hard I tried. My eyes then widened and my hand, which had been subconsciously stroking the wisps of hair that shadowed her features, stopped midair as the impact of it hit me. She wasn't crying, so I had no clue of what she thought, but never had I wanted to know more than I did then._

_I took a long time to accept that climax, the one that was definitely not wanted but had been put in the unfortunate story anyway, and when my mind rejoined present time I saw that neither of us had moved from our close position on the bed, and that her eyes – her beautiful eyes – were staring at mine once more._

_She tried to start again but instead choked on her words and buried her face back into my chest. I could feel a wet spot on my shirt becoming steadily larger as more and more of her warm tears hit my skin, and my hand ran up and down her back in turn. I didn't want, nor need her to go on anymore. I knew the rest of the story._

_I had found her in a rehab center that we were both checked into. She had come saying she had an addiction to men, or that she used to, but over time I thought that sillier and harder to believe. I think she mostly wanted somewhere safe to stay, like me. I was there to bum a bed and food, as my father had kicked me out earlier that week. Being a useless freeloader I agreed to head group discussions when the regular leader wasn't there, missing out on as many classes as I could until I spotted her. After that, I came to every one._

_It wasn't the slim physique or particularly generous breasts that I was after. It was her eyes. I was amazed, and still am, at how they could maintain that chillingly blank feel and color so effortlessly. I think she understood, too, for she began to relax under my stare and gradually return it to me. I tried to start conversations with her but stopped after a couple times, giving into the fact that neither one of us had much to say. Even so, she began to pick seats next to mine, and after our fingers finished playing nervously with loose strings on one another's jeans, they interlocked._

_I left my door unlocked after a few sessions, hoping maybe one night she would come in. She eventually did, and just as I wished, she stayed there all night beneath my hold. That night we slept, only slept. I had no intentions of having her that night. It was due partly to the fact that my mother had instilled in me (before she left) a great respect, telling me that women could do whatever they wanted whenever they wanted and that I had no control whatsoever. I found her words very true over time, and though I had never been in a very long or serious relationship, this advice had come in handy whenever I had felt like messing around._

_I woke up the next morning to the minor tickle of slender, slightly callused fingers toying with the soft cotton of my tee shirt. She seemed very happy, happier than I had ever seen her in group or during our frequent encounters prior to that morning, and it was shown in the small curve made by her usually slack mouth. When she heard me laugh at the sensation her hands were giving me she immediately pulled them away and looked up as her expression changed to one of apologetic fear. I then smiled the same smile that she had worn just seconds ago, which seemed to calm her immensely. To prove my feelings even more I slid my hand around her waist and laid a light kiss on her pale pink lips. The kiss was long, sweet, and passionate, but tender just the same, and slowly, very slowly, she returned it._

_The tears had now stopped, and I released her only to scoot down a few inches on the bed and look at her, as I had done earlier, but in a much gentler way. I planted a few light kisses on her lips, her forehead, and her nose before she returned the comforting favor, giving me much pleasure. I wrapped my hands loosely around the small of her back, my forearms resting lightly her abdomen (which was just beginning to swell) as she smiled and stroked my chest with just as much love. We lay there for hours unsure of what to say, and eventually the awkward silence made her serene face break into a very familiar smile. Sometimes I would look at her and do the same, but mostly I felt like playing the staring game. I stared at her eyes, her beautiful eyes, and she stared back at mine._

I wrote this in the summer of 2006, and after I got some great reviews from my friends, teachers, and even some professional authors, became desperate to publish it. This is my first EVER published story on . If you're reading this and are really picky about this being in the right format for a screenplay I'll say this – imagine it as one big monolog. Thanks for reading everybody!! PLEASE LEAVE ME A REVIEW!!


	2. Chapter 1

This is the true beginning to the story, in her point of view. (What caused her to have nightmares)

I was at a party, one of those hangouts for college kids who don't earn enough money to buy booze for themselves. I wasn't dancing, or talking, or doing much of anything really, just kind of enjoying my own drunken stupor, running a commentary of the bland surroundings in my head. Every now and then people would come up and talk to me, almost like I was an unconvinced two year-old, in a high, energized, this-is-my-first-party-and-I-am-so-excited-I-can't-hold-my-liquor sort of way. And I'd just smile, nod, then tilt the plastic cup full of cheap beer that I held in my hand back up to my mouth.

The hardwood part of the apartment, which I spent most of my time watching, was taken up by a crowd of sweaty dancers and spinning strobe lights. No one had asked me to dance yet, but someone always would. I'm the kind of person that makes a party better by merely showing up, increasing the population of the room. That being said, guys don't usually pay much attention to me, so you can understand how the one next to me seemed a little queer when he draped his arm over my shoulders.

I kept drinking as the boy tried to make small talk with me. _Maybe if I'm drunk enough, it'll be like he's not there..._ Turns out it had just the opposite effect. He offered to take me outside, said I looked a little flushed from the high room temperature. _Those last gallons of beer may have been five too many,_ I joked in my head. He took my laugh for a yes and grabbed my elbow to weave me through the intoxicated students to the heavy, rusted-metal door that led out of the building. The gravel that coated the alley crunched beneath the soles of my low-tops as I shivered in the nippy autumn air.

He stood away from me for about 2 minutes while we made awkward conversation. The only sounds I heard other than my own voice replying were the low pitched ding! of the convenience store behind us and the rumble of broken asphalt tread on by the occasional car that went past. I'd started drawing wide circles in the gray dust out of boredom when he said something I didn't catch.

"Huh?" I asked thickly. He repeated himself.

"You got a boyfriend?"

I looked shyly to my right, the street, as he approached, taking his hands out of his pockets.

Being drunk and not possessive of a strong judgment system, I didn't do anything to stop him when he backed me up against the brick wall, nor did I care much when his hands fumbled around my belt buckle. I did wince every time he bit down on my previously clothed shoulder, and by the time his lips were sucking at my neck and his hands were pressing on my butt I felt downright uncomfortable. When I tried to push him away, though, he pushed me harder against the wall. That made me panic. I looked around for a distraction. My eyes fell on the glass recycling container next to me.

As I tried to reach the open trashcan to grab a bottle without him noticing I heard another low ding and the unenthusiastic "Thank you, come again..." of an old overworked checkout lady. My eyes shot open and flew up to focus on the faded yellow light that spilled out from what must have been the front of the store.

That was the first time I saw him, standing there with a dumfounded look on his face and a hand frozen above a spot of hair on his head that he'd been scratching.


	3. Chapter 2

GOSH, I haven't updated in SUCH a long TIME!!! (hehe sry spaceraider) This chappie basically starts just where the other one left off. I'll try to post again later tonight:)

He wore a simple band t-shirt and a much worn leather jacket, carried a bulging white plastic bag with the word "THANKS" garishly written across it in bold red letters. The footfalls of his black Chucks worked to form somewhat of a lope before he stopped to put the disheveled money in his hand back into his wallet, his wallet back into his pocket. He looked up only when the wine bottle I'd managed to catch a grip on dropped to the asphalt and shattered. Party boy had tried to shove his hand down my pants and I had to let go in order to grab his shoulders and force him back off.

Party Boy's expression turned angry when I did this, though, so he copied me by putting his hands on my shoulders and pushing, only he pushed much, _much_ harder, causing my neck to twang and my head to sling backwards and knock against the solid brick wall. As my eyes fuzzed and my head pulsed I heard cans clattering and the rhythmic slapping of running. I looked up. Mystery boy had set down his bag and was coming toward us.

He looked angry, but fortunately his gaze was on Party boy and not me. Party boy released me and turned to stare at him with sharp eyes. Mystery boy took two slow, deep breaths. I forced my eyes away from his intricate and tempting jaw line to see what was going on. He looked at me and smiled as he dug a 20 dollar bill back out of his wallet. He whispered something sly like...I'll finish her off. Whatever he'd said must have been convincing, because after Party boy discreetly took the money in two fingers he coolly turned and walked back to the apartment complex, shrugging his shoulders in an "I don't give a damn" sort of way.

Slightly relieved, I followed his path with my eyes until they clouded over - my head had given another particularly painful pulse. My right hand shook as I slowly moved it back to the wall. When my head pounded again it accented the other painful points on my body. My eyes watered and my knees gave out. I put my other hand on the back of my skull, crossed my legs Indian-style, leaned forward and rocked in a slightly mental way as a weak attempt to comfort myself.

I didn't hear mystery boy approach or bend down, but I did notice when his slightly calloused hand gently pulled my shirt to put it back into place, fingertips tickling my quivering shoulder. I stopped rocking when he tilted my chin up with his hand and started asking me questions, but my body convulsed with a violent coughing spell and he retreated. When I brought my hand away from my mouth my palm was covered in droplets of blood. _Oh no_, I thought as I hung my head once more. _Not again_.

That was when his questions became more urgent. I tried to focus, but the combination of the pain in my skull, the unpleasant metallic taste in my mouth, and the dread filling up my stomach was enough for my cowardly body to want to restart. I met his gaze one more time before my fuzzy eyesight traded for total darkness.


	4. Chapter 3

OK, I realized that I might have not made this exactly clear. When the font is italic, it's what she's thinking/saying to herself. Enjoy! (I updated twice in one week! Weee!)

I've always heard that first impressions are the most important, so after waking up in a musty, foreign smelling bed to the persistent beep of an alarm clock, I figured I was doing pretty badly. _Why do I always have to ruin my image?_ I tried to sit up, but quickly laid my head back on the pillow before it could give another painful throb. I recalled the memories of last night as I squeezed as much comfort as I could out of the lumpy pillow I'd slept on. _Party... boy... fight..._ (my head throbbed here) _Why did the fight stop, though? Oh yeah. That boy came and... _

_That Boy?_

I sat up quickly and whipped my head around to look for him, but felt like in idiot once again when the pain in my head intensified again before dulling out. I scoffed and smiled. _It's like I'm being warned..._

I soon learned that relief could be found by bending my knees at a ninety-degree angle and touching my forehead to the area of mattress between.

"Head hurt?"

I looked up. There he was, complete with that sweet voice that resounded like a timid single-note picking guitarist that had just forgotten his stage fright at open mic night. The hum of it was just the cure for my afflicted areas. Bringing my eyes ajar and drinking in the sight of his freshly caffeinated figure, I answered.

"Not so much now." I pursed my lips in a half smile.

He copied my expression, pushed off of the chipped door frame, and trudged over to where I was sitting on the bed to hand me a mug of coffee, black. I expressed my appreciation and then used this moment as a chance to glance at the room. It was extremely messy, not attractive, homey way, but more like it was in dire need of a duster and trashcan. Unmatched wooden chairs acted as long-term homes for music tabs, personal reminders, unfinished job applications and public bulletin reminders that he'd most likely torn down. The bed was creaky and slightly lumpy, but probably the most comfortable thing in the room. The walls were a grayish sandy color which did nothing to compliment the mustard comforter. In the eyes of most high-class people it was a disaster, but to me it was charming. _It suits my soul,_ I thought jokingly.

He assessed the situation after I took a swallow of my bitter brew and met his eyes once more. "So, since you're feeling better, I guess you wanna get out of this place, go back home maybe..."

Immediately I remembered scenes from fights, empty liquor bottles, and raised voices that traded biting remarks. Home was not a place I wanted to be right now, maybe not ever. He must have seen the fear and disinterest in my face.

"...Or you could stay here with me." His face broke into an attractive smile against his unshaven chin at his apparent joke and he raised his coffee cup to meet his lips. He stopped in mid sip to quizzically furrow his brow when he saw my face.

To say I'd lit up like a Christmas tree would be horribly corny but disturbingly accurate. I nearly jumped off of the bed to hug him before I remembered the reason why I was there in the first place. My joints twanged as I switched direction. I made myself ask in a much quieter voice than I had originally intended.

"Could I stay with you?"

His eyes widened. It was then that I realized the blatant sarcasm behind his statement and felt immensely stupid at what I'd suggested. I put my head back down after displaying a series of facial expressions the last one humility.

"I... um... well, I hadn't...if...well-" He closed his eyes before sizing up my image again.

"Sure," He said after a few seconds.

I smiled at him. _Oh god, here I go again._


	5. Chapter 4

Umm, okay, I guess that I can safely say that I'm not very happy with this chapter either, but just be patient – this chapter and the next will. Both be kind of weak, as I didn't have very much ideas for them but still wanted to get them out as soon as possible. Note: Mystery boy's name is Roger, and that's how I'll refer to him from here on out. I know I don't have a smooth transition, but I'll try to put one in later! Enjoy!

Life with Roger was, well, life. It wasn't great, it wasn't horrible, it was just passing time, and I was very comfortable with it. The apartment we lived in was small and a little cramped – from a distance you couldn't see how it was home to one person, much less two. Oh wait - Two people, _and_ a dog.

We'd found him in that same alleyway next to the convenience store we practically lived off of. No one was trying to rape him, of course, but he still looked pitiful lying on a pile of rubble, whimpering softly, his bones showing through his thin, matted hair. I looked pleadingly at Roger, and after a few seconds he sighed and said "Wait here." With that he trudged back into the store and came out with a thin, worn leather leash and matching collar. He smiled his regular half smile and handed both the objects to me. I rushed over to the dog and put them on him immediately, and once he figured out what they were, he seemed better.

We led him home to Roger's apartment where we set out two Tupperware containers, one holding massive amounts of food and the other consisting of plain tap water. We never saw the dog eat, but after Roger and I awoke the next morning we discovered them both completely dry. I smiled and sleepily walked over to pet the panting canine while Roger just shook his head and started making breakfast for all of us.

Roger and I lived like a couple, even though we weren't. We slept in the same bed, fixed meals for each other, and even picked out one another's outfits - just for fun of course. We both knew that we weren't dating and even though I was constantly aware of how attracted to him I was, Roger never showed anything much towards me. Eventually I let it pass and settled for just being his contented housemate.

Everyday we lived was pretty much the same – we'd wake up, eat breakfast, shower, go to work (me to a grocery store warehouse unloading boxes and him to a music store where he sold people guitar strings, picks, etc.), come home, eat dinner, and sleep. We might be taken as human machines in the eyes of outsiders, but I felt that we were both much more than that, even though we never said it aloud.

Life with Roger was pretty much just plain old life, but I still treasured and enjoyed it. I knew very well that sometimes life wasn't about love, or money, or being happy even, that sometimes it was just about continuing on with your short journey.


	6. Chapter 5

This is where/when things gets messy…(enjoy)

Here I am, kneeling on the floor of our makeshift bedroom, antique papers, pictures, letters, and books scattered all around me on the stained, supposedly-tan carpet, one certain object in my hands. How this all worked out so conveniently, how I even had the guts to get away with it, I have no idea. All I know is that I'm sitting on a crap-coated floor looking at the one thing I'd have never guessed to be true.

I suppose you could call the dishwater-blonde, plain-clothes girl in the picture pretty, she looked warm in a sense anyway. We shared the same eyes, the same lips, even the same nose, more or less, but that's not the only thing that wierded me out. We weren't related. I didn't even think I knew her. In short, she was a mystery, but at least a familiar one (in some regard).

She was sitting on someone's lap, looking with caring and understanding eyes, a thing you could tell she'd started doing out of habit. Behind her was a worn-down old fashioned Jeep that was hopelessly coated with dust from the surrounding, maybe Arizona desert. Beyond that were layers of earth, mini canyons, a bush or two, and then a fine, thin line of powder blue sky. You might think these factors would make this picture a soothing, sweet, nostalgic one, but besides the fact that I had no idea of the story that went with it, I was disturbed by a fresh new thought in my life with Roger.

He was the one she was sitting on.

The sweet, caring look was for him.

Their hands intertwining intricately signaled a relationship far beyond that of 'just friends'.

These two were in love, free of all worries, enjoying their 'spring break' vacation, living their carefree and adolescent lives.

With just one problem.

The girl in the photograph was dead.

On the back there was a scribbled inscription (obviously Roger's cramped boy-handwriting) that read "Summer 2001 trip with Aaron, Marty, and Elisabeth."

And then, not far below that final name, much looser penmanship wrote "Died 2003."

So, here I am, kneeling in the middle of Roger's apartment bedroom, his bureau drawers entirely disengaged from their slots, the contents of which dumped out all over the floor, (which looked hazardous and invading all on it's own) with a picture, a picture which happened to be the only one in his collection containing said girl, clutched in my freshly sweaty hands.

_Muted jingles, clanging bronze, yellowing-insulation and peeling paint friction, slap, slap, slap of his black low-tops. _

There he was, standing there with a dumfounded look on his face and a hand frozen just above a spot of hair on his head that he'd been scratching.


	7. Chapter 6

That awkward, pressuring, empty moment staring at us right then seemed a worthy comparative to hell. On instinct I ran towards the apartment door, a million apology techniques rushing through my mind. I had been rummaging through his stuff without permission. Why is i9t that every time things seem to be going just right I have to do something that ruins it? The guilt mixed with sudden realization and tears made me lose concentration, and as a result I tripped a little on a chair leg. This slowed me down considerably, almost closing the distance between our racing bodies. I frantically jiggled the sticky doorknob until his fingers pressed and clicked the diamond-shaped lock so it connected with the wood of the doorframe.

He stopped all other futile attempts to escape by wrapping his strong forearms tight around my pale waist. I heard him move in closer from behind, even though he didn't say a word. When he seemed satisfied that I wouldn't leave, he loosened his grip considerably and shifted the grasp of his left hand from my hidden hip bone to my naked shoulder. I replied by moving one hand to his forearm, my chest still shaking with sobs, but he seemed to like the little reassurance that was given off. He touched the tip of his chin to my neck, making me shiver when his five o-clock shadow grazed the tender skin there.

My slight tremor made his eyes widen, his lips part, his pulse quicken; I knew just then of what I was capable of doing to this boy. But should I release him now? Could I do it, knowing the consequences? Does my fertile love for him conquer the unknown future and what this very decision could do to my life?

Did even I want life?

So far it had been painful, so far dumb, like something I wouldn't wish back if I could. Until him – he had been wonderful. I had been at his mercy when he was deciding whether he would let me stay, but he allowed it. He gave me a home, one that others would stick their noses up at, but to me was much needled shelter and certainly cozier than any mental-house. He cared so selflessly for such a perfect stranger. But should I release him now? Would I? Could I?

I leaned my head back and sighed, resting against his collarbone. His head turned at the sudden pressure, his sweet lips almost touching mine. Some sort of electric shock ran through me.

Yes.

I wanted to release him now.

And perhaps I could release myself too.


	8. Chapter 7

I spun around and brought my mouth ajar and at an angle to be dangerously close to his in one fluent motion. I stopped there and breathed heavily with my efforts. Was this what he wanted? He's certainly acting like it... He blinked once, twice, before shutting his eyes and pressing his lips on mine in an abrasive, needy kiss.

I liked the pressure and tried to kiss back with equal strength but his force was too strong for me to counter. I tried my best then to form a rhythm for us to follow, and it surprised me when he didn't respond. It seemed like his timidity had vanished completely as he coaxed my mouth open with his lips. I willingly obliged, and our tongues delved hungrily in each other's mouths as I grabbed at his neck with my other hand for a better hold. The fingers of one of his hands skimmed my upper thighs and felt my hips before pushing and pressing on my waist at the same time that he bit my lower lip. I barely had time to give a shuddery moan of pleasure before his lips claimed mine once more in a short push-pull routine.

He continued to explore my lower back and stomach so that my fitted t-shirt rode up slightly, Then he went to work on the waistband of my jeans and soon had then pulled down to my mid thighs. In my moment of ecstasy I didn't have time to stop him before his hand followed the curve of my underwear to the silky tunnel it was looking for and shoved two extremities upwards. I gave a gasp that was so violent it made me feel like if I did it again my throat would rip. He repeated his actions over and over, getting a little slower each time, pressing and feeling all of inside of me. The last time he did it was pure torture as he twisted his fingers unhurriedly back and forth about 6 times before I came and he drew them out completely. When my orgasm ended I opened my eyes, looking at him expectantly before I saw the he had taken off his own pants completely and was moving to pull mine lower. I helped him and expected to take them all the way off, but after I'd pulled them down about 6 more inches he pushed my hands away and shoved his whole self inside me.

I gave a squeak of shock as pain filtered into pleasure and my eyes tried to refocus, but when they finally did he did it again, and again, and again, picking up his speed greatly in the intervals. My hands were on his shoulders and I squeezed them to tell him to stop or slow down, but he didn't pay any attention. He'd stopped gaining speed and was now nearly pounding into me at an unbearable rapidness. I hit his shoulder with my palm and then my fist. Then I closed my eyes and bit my lip, waiting for him to stop. My eyes watered, tears threatening to spill. I called his name, telling him to stop, but he still wouldn't listen. I felt blood bubble up in my throat. The pain was intolerable. Tears poured down my cheeks as fear gripped my form. I began screaming. When I screamed the first time he didn't notice, and on the second he looked up to see what was wrong. It took him a while to realize that it wasn't pleasure I was screaming for, it was pain, and he immediately pulled out and crawled back towards the opposite wall.

I screamed a few more times before leaning over and coughing up the blood I wasn't able to swallow. My whole body was shaking, and when I started crying the tears I swallowed mixed with my blood and tasted horrible. I curled myself in a loose ball and tried to ignore the stinging and throbbing that came from the lower half of my body. Through my tears I saw him inch back into his pants and stand there with this scared and shocked and horrified expression, chest shaking when he inhaled, hands loose by his sides. He just stood there staring at me as he realized what he'd done, and when his emotions became too much he sat down and leaned his back against the wall as one hand covered his mouth while the other rested in his lap. Silent tears leaked out of his eyes.

"I-I'm sorry," his voice shook and he choked. "I just... Elisabeth... you remind me of her..." He stopped and completely broke down. "_so much_." He managed to say before his body convulsed with violent sobs. "I'm so sorry... _Elisabeth_."


	9. Chapter 8

I knew I'd passed out the moment I woke up. My hair hung knotted and frizzed over my aching shoulders instead of in the loose ponytail I routinely put it in before bed. My palms were red and stinging, my throat was dry and sore, and the pain between my legs was more apparent than all the others.

Immediately after I opened my eyes I scanned the room for Roger, not really knowing if I wanted to see him or not. When a few minutes went by and I hadn't hears any sounds, except the occasional early morning bird chirping, accompanied quickly by the fresh scent of dawn, a knot tightened in my stomach. He wasn't here. _But where had he gone?_

I painstakingly pulled myself up from the floor, using the nearby doorframe as my brace, and trudged limply down the hall, turning left at the end, walking into our – his – bedroom. I fell down on the lumpy mattress as soon as I was in range, and gave a sort of troubled groan upon contact. A few seconds passed and my eyes fluttered closed, a few minutes passed and they shot wide open again. I had to think. Think about… things. Things like what was I going to do, where was I going to go, how was I going to live, but after a while I gave up. The progressive part of my mind seemed to have jammed.

The consistent chirping of the morning birds filtered through my thoughts, a sound that I had always liked. Dawn always seemed so hopeful and poetic. Only the tiniest part of me thought it was a pathetic excuse for 'a new beginning'. While heading towards the cracked, outwardly rusted window, my inner thighs rubbed together and a sharp stinging issued from between them, filling my head with memories of the notorious picture, of last night, of… him. I felt sad and angry and regretful and… something else that was too complicated to comprehend without the aid of a migraine. _"Maybe it is love, as much as it can be for a person." "A person who sold you to Humble Pie for fifty bucks and a case of beer?" _I grinned. My life was never going to be exactly like Penny Lane's, no matter how hard I wished for it to be.

When I reached the window the sweet scent of sunrise became overpowering almost at once. My responsive body went weak in the knees and my eyes closed in a peaceful surrender. On the projection screen of my eyelids I saw and... felt… happiness, I guess. Like I had a chance, like I shouldn't just go and give up, break the bathroom mirror and slice straight through my veins till all I saw was darkness.

The dawn made my queasy sense of insecurity settle and my thoughts collect. _The boy_… he was gone. Roger was probably the only person who made me happy, made me cry, and made me scream. He was he only person I'd ever reacted to – usually I just went numb. Yeah… Roger would always be special, the boy… the **dog**…

No, I'm not saying that Roger is a dog, even metaphorically. What I'm saying is that the broad, damp tongue that kept brushing across my calf was getting annoying. I looked down to see the mangy mutt we'd rescued from that trash heap. Our – his – wait, was it my dog? Roger wouldn't be here to take care of him and I certainly wasn't staying… I smiled. _Oh well, at least I like him._

I quickly packed up my belongings that I managed to find in the dilapidated heap I once called a charming, intriguing, bohemian home and retrieved my ancient black over coat from the disorganized pile in the closet. My smile grew as I rushed over to the single beside table we once shared, grabbing the faded bargain-leash I remembered him buying. With just as much haste I ran back to the canine I'd grown to love so much during the past few months, kneeling before him in a mock-holy fashion. _This dog shall be the first stop on my path to redemption. He would be…_

"Roger," My eyes went wide when I heard myself say it, and so did the dog's. I said it again as I hooked the large, tarnished clasp onto the matching rung of his collar. His light, faded denim eyes looked at me quizzically, his eyebrows alternating arches. "Roger," I repeated… and then I smiled. I understood. "You'll be my Roger."

Alright everybody (spaceraider) this is the final chapter of the infamous Roger stories. I hope you all (again, just spaceraider, lol) are satisfied! I'm planning to do the next section soon and will probably have the first short up by the end of the month. Thanks so much for reading this far! Oh yeah – there's a quote in this chapter from the awesome movie Almost Famous, and even though I don't own it I wish I did! GO SEE IT!!! ; )


	10. Chapter 9

I opened my eyes to summer's late morning humidity, noting that the windows of my cheap rehab room were thrown wide open in a lame attempt to air out the room

I opened my eyes to summer's late morning humidity, noting that the windows of my cheap rehab room were thrown wide open in a lame attempt to air out the room. I rubbed my bleary eyes to clear them and tried to lift my arms and stretch to shake off the fatigue on my body. When my right arm didn't immediately come free of the hotel – quality blankets I was otherwise tangled in, I became confused. When I investigated, I found the cause to be the something else asleep on top of it – and that something else was a girl.

…_missing out on as many classes as I could until I spotted her. After that, I came to every one…_

I immediately felt stupid for not remembering her presence. After all, she'd practically begun to join me nightly. I smacked my forehead and laughed dryly. She interrupted me with a feeble groan, a protest to my movement. Still sleepy and probably unaware of her surroundings, she slid one pale arm over my t-shirt and grabbed the opposite side of my ribs, pulling me closer to her. She rested her chin on top of my chest, eyes still closed, sleeping away like a sweet, contented puppy. I chuckled again and reached out to twist my fingers in her long brown hair, playing with the thin, loose curls that framed her attractive face. She awoke after a few seconds, but her surprise died down when she realized who it was touching her in such an intimate way. Her eyes immediately locked with mine.

_She had come saying she had an addiction to men…_

When I accidentally pulled one of the hazelnut strands harder than I meant to, she winced, smiled, and began to laugh as she gave my head a light smack and teasingly reached for my own hair. We played for a few minutes, wallowing in the nostalgia that accompanied our childish game. I stilled when she turned to the side and coughed into her wrist, my heart beating faster, and my eyes widening. When she was done, she turned back to me with a smile, assuring me that all was okay. I was relieved to learn that I hadn't been too rough with her.

_She knew she was torturing me when she lay on her side with her face towards my chest…_

That awkward silence that took over when her coughing spasm started lingered on in the next moment, in which I assessed exactly how her body was positioned against mine. The pressure of her forearms digging into my chest went unnoticed by the more male part of my brain taking in the feel of her legs straddling my own. I noted how very soft they were. I blushed and forced those thoughts away when she twisted her waist to gaze at the clock on my bedside table. I moaned and closed my eyes as I felt myself twitch at the friction she provided. Unconsciously, I squirmed, trying to get more of that delicious feeling. When her presence registered once more, my eyes popped open, meeting hers straight away. I felt myself blush under her probing gaze.

A _very_ awkward minute passed, and then her entrancing eyes unexpectedly turned smokier, and her lids narrowed. She slowly pressed her Sophee clad hips upon mine again, and I groaned louder as I hardened even more beneath her resting form.

_Do you want to?_

The next thing I could mentally grasp was that I was pressing myself on top of her and groping her waist hastily as our lips danced with one another's. I slid my hands down her shirt and up again, catching the hem and gaining passage to a smooth, bare waist instead of one covered in cloth. I shuddered at the silkiness of her pale skin and stroked it, savoring the amazing feel as she arched into my nervous touch. I took the sweet opportunity to lavish her throat and collarbone with my tongue and teeth.

_It wasn't the slim physique or particularly generous breasts that I was after. It was her eyes…_

She began to pant at my ministrations, gasping when I nipped a certain spot, squirming relentlessly beneath me. When I tested her sensitivity and blew a cold stream of air into her ear she shrieked, sat up, and started doing the same to me. I shuddered at the relief on my hot flesh, pulling her tighter, closing the thin distance between us. She put her nimble hands into action and removed my shirt, fingering the subtle muscular curves in the skin of my abdomen. Working her way lower, she paused and smiled against my open mouth when my breath hitched as one of her nails accidentally scratched the skin just above the waistline of my boxers. I tried to tell her to stop, and she deftly reached in and fisted my length, stroking my straining hardness. I growled low at each brush to my most sensitive spot, and when I came too close to losing control, I pulled her hands out of my pants and pinned both to the sheets above her head.

_She told me a story that night as I held her in my arms…_

Her hair looked wild and arousing spread out on the pillows I slept on, and I reveled in the touch of it as I cupped the base of her neck to bring her lips up to mine. Unable to resist I swept my tongue in once, and, loving the taste of her, did it again and again. I wrapped my arms around her small waist and held her close as her own extremities quickly pulled off both of our sleep – pants. Once she had succeeded she wrapped her own small arms around my back, clinging on for dear life as her eyes shut tightly.

_Her eyes leaked tears – what her mind would not recognize the need for…_

Unable to take it any longer, I positioned myself and finally thrust rapidly into her secret place. When I saw her tears start to descend, I immediately regretted my haste and eased into a leisurely rhythm, not wanting to strain her body any more than was needed. We followed this routine for a few minutes as her uneasiness subsided, and then she suddenly rubbed her hips harder against mine, scratching my back on each thrust with her long nails. I looked at her face for permission and saw pain, but pleasure was there also, and so I began to pick up my speed. When I did, I became _much_ more aware of the sensations that being inside her was creating. Sweat dribbled sown my forehead and I propped my elbows on either side of her tossing head for support. Eyes closed, she began to meet me thrust for thrust, her nails clawing at my back harder with need. Each scratch burned my skin and sent a wave of dizziness over me. I looked for her mouth using mine, and we kissed in an animalistic frenzy that was sure to bruise. Her pulsing contractions around my member sent me over the edge at last and I separated our mouths only to arch up and roar as my completion came -

…_her skin, so tender and pale against her bohemian clothing, could possibly have held her together during the time when she was alive…_

The dreary, soaked streets of London looked even more depressing than normal that morning as I saw them through my mustard-tinted windows. I fought to slow my ragged breathing and realized that I wasn't still nineteen and I wasn't still living in that dingy rehab room. The shrill cry of the baby mocked mine, though mine had ended when I awoke. I looked around hurriedly, searching for something, anything, praying that it would be there. My eyes froze on the lonely, messed pile of bed sheets next to mine as my breath caught. When I heard the persistent wail of our hungry baby once again, I couldn't resist any longer. I bent my knees, curled into a pathetic little ball, put my head in my hands and cried.


	11. Chapter 11

"C'mon!" He told me, laughter threatening at the edges of his voice, but not at my expense. Pigeons fluttered hurriedly out of our way as we walked briskly towards our destination; the underground train that would take us to Timmy's father's summer home. _A summer home in England_, I thought with a laugh, regarding the static forecast of poor weather and sunless hours.

Well, I couldn't be that hard on the country. After all, for the past few weeks the always overhanging clouds had thinned, gifting some lunchtimes with a blinding sun. _The sun_. A smile danced across my lips, threatening it's reveal the next time Timmy tugged on my arm anxiously or when I thought of the timeless tranquility of the lake house that I would enjoy for the next two short vacation months. I sighed lightly and grinned – in truth, I couldn't wait to arrive.

We continued marching through London until our destination came into sight – a mud splattered but distinctive purple subway entrance that courted a flight of stairs that led underground into the continuous noise and crowdedness. I was scared of tripping as we rushed down two, three, four flights of stairs to reach the ticket booths – our train would leave in less than five minutes.

Suddenly I felt my breath catch, and my eyes bugged in shock. My throat felt like someone had pulled the string that closed the opening of a drawstring bag, and every time I tried to take a breath they pulled harder. I halted my steps in the middle of the tile floor, earning several rude remarks and stares as people struggled to get around the blockage I was causing. When he felt the sharp tug on his hand, Timmy turned around, puzzled at the fact that I had stopped. When he saw my predicament he immediately swung around to capture me in his broad grip.

As my vision began to fog I closed my eyes tight in concentration and tried to focus on anything else that would help distract me and return my respiration to its normal state, my lover's arms closed tight around me, his sweater clad form rubbing friction against my woolen pea coat. I shuddered involuntarily and rested my head on his shoulders as he started whispering calming endearments into my ear. Slowly my breath returned, and my body surfaced from its wave of nausea. I sunk into a brief subconscious, focusing on the rhythm emanating from both our breasts, a drum beat that steadily found its way into synchronization. His hands snaked down my arms and grasped my wrists, pulling my hands away from my stomach as his warm figure retreated from mine. I tilted my head upright to meet his gaze. One of his calloused thumbs reached up to wipe away the tears I'd shed. He examined my state once more by glancing deeply into my eyes once more before I nodded in confirmation. He smiled again, though not as strongly as before, and turned to face forward once more. We continued our trek, but at a much slower pace for my condition, and for that I was thankful.


	12. Chapter 12

Her hips thrust up more earnestly to meet mine, and when I opened my eyes I saw her long, chestnut hair thrown wildly back onto the pillow, the ends of the shining strands brushing gently against her craning neck. I then took in the sight of her delicate throat: a pale, glistening column with tiny sweat beads clinging to it as a result of our strenuous activity. I longed to lick and nip at the sensitive skin surrounding her jaw, but when she suddenly slowed from her frantic pace and rolled her hips skillfully to one side, my mouth was too busy groaning and my brain too preoccupied with revenge to pay attention to that miniscule detail. I grunted sporadically and returned to my previous pattern of driving myself in and out of her hidden, silken walls, taking in too little detail but being in such a state of carnal starvation that I didn't care.

My arms moved from their stuck positions beside the curves of her waistline and slid deftly under her over-warm back, giving me leverage for pulling her torso snug against mine, enabling us both to feel the raw, unbearably hot friction created by our separate bodies moving in unison, forming one mass. We tried to kiss but we continually missed each other's mouths, and in our attempts, inelegantly marked each other with bruises from our dry lips and welts from our front teeth. She tried to return my strong hold on her body by wrapping her arms around my neck, but as we pushed each other higher and higher, she became incapable of anything more than feeling. When that final moment came and the building anticipation of our reward was incredibly strong we fell back onto the bed, my damp skin pressed hard against her soft flesh, so hard I could feel her the vibrations of her racing pulse pushing blood through her veins. She made light gasping noises, and I hungrily kissed her mouth, sucking out and swallowing every scream that might have come from her writhing, oblique body as the intense orgasm infiltrated her nervous system for long minutes at a time.

After we both surfaced from the white hot waves enough to open our eyes watch the surface approach slowly, we began gasping desperately for air, and little by little I managed to lift my upper body and move it back, breaking my connection with the beautiful girl beneath me. Although I was completely spent and equally satisfied, I still produced quiet, involuntary moans as I slid out of her mildly fluctuating, unbelievably soft tunnel. When the electricity racing through my skin sputtered then stopped, I dropped my head between my flexed shoulders, closing my eyes halfway and concentrating solely on pushing used air out of my suffocating muscles and doping them up with cool, fresh oxygen.

I felt her warm hands tickle and massage my scalp through the sweaty hair that hung over my face, and I grinned and raised my head to look at her, brushing one of my hands through my hair to smooth it down and simultaneously clasp her one of her hands then hold it captive in mine. Her pink body was stilled and calm for the most part, but her breaths were still labored. The intake of air pushed her chest cavity up and down, raising and lowering her shapely breasts, and this sight held my attention for a long moment. Her smile was clear on her face, and she giggled when she tried to tug her hand away from mine and I strengthened my hold on it so she couldn't. She lifted her hand up off the wrinkled sheets and lay it down again right below her collar bone, but keeping it there took too much strength and it flopped back to the side, her palm facing the ceiling with slightly curved fingers around it.

Now that we'd properly broken in the bed in my father's summer home, it would be much more comfortable to lie in, partly because of the memories it now held. I looked out the window at the sunny, sparsely-wooded land around the house, and reminded myself not be fooled by the random bright yellow blocks the sun cast on the ground, because I knew for a fact that it was still exceedingly cold outside. I pulled up the touristy to do list I had made in my mind, and thought about which of the things on that list would be most comfortable and fun to do at this time of day. After running through the blue-print vacation plans, I found about 3 that would work. I turned back to my lover and smiled at her, and then told her that since we were too tired for another romp, we might as well explore the trinket-shops we had passed on our journey from the metro exit to our summer home. The look in her eyes that she cast at me told me that she would go along, but before I could name the other emotions she landed her open hands on the sides of my face and craned her neck to embrace my lips in hers very slowly.

Matching her pace, I deepened my closeness to her and carefully, when I was sure all of my body weight I could hold so as to not put any on her, I wedged my hands between the mattress and her shoulders to cup the base of her neck, letting her totally relax in my hold. Her left hand stayed stationary on my cheek while her right relaxed into a contented, loose hold on the muscle that made the transition from my neck to my shoulder, and our mouths respectfully searched the others for a minute or so. When I gained enough courage, I pulled my head away from hers just enough to fully focus on her face, and then let the familiar features of it swathe my eyes with a velvet blanket that I pulled across my skin, wrapping myself in the melting cloth. When I finished I lowered myself again to her rosy lips for a quick kiss and then rolled off her, standing on the floor and working out the kinks and stretching the muscles in my back, before reminding her to shower and then hurrying off to do myself.

Author's Note: okay I actually have a lot of this story done, but I'm trying to do more clear chronology and time-passing moments in this section, and I need to fill those spots in. I'm actually kind of writing it backwards, so please, bear with me!


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